


Hey Man, Nice Shot

by teddyfazbear



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Gen, Gun Kink, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Reader-Insert, Regeneration, Russian Roulette, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 02:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14486373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddyfazbear/pseuds/teddyfazbear
Summary: While vacationing at the resort from the Whirly Dirly Conspiracy episode, you reunite with Rick and decide to play a little game.





	Hey Man, Nice Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Not so much a Rick/Reader as a “I’ve been fantasizing about that damn resort planet since the episode aired and I needed to get this out of my system.” Focuses on reader, Rick is pretty much just along for the ride. :P

_Spin._

The thrill of death itself- a high far stronger than the majority of drugs in the galaxy. Yet, it was a high most only achieve but once, never living to tell the tale.  How fortunate you were to happen to be one of the rich assholes who could afford to visit this resort.  You could think of no better place in the galaxy to relieve some of the pressure caused by your day to day life.  Say what you want, but you decided long ago that it’s healthy for you to have this outlet for violent and self-destructive tendencies. Therapists would likely disagree with this form of rehab, but of _course_ they would. As long as you kept coming back, those vultures would keep getting paid.  Sure, cocaine might be cheaper and less addictive, but snorting a line couldn’t hold a candle to literally blowing your brains out.

Was it safe? Well, Risotto assured his clients that was the case. Then again, you weren’t sure how much you trusted that ape guy. In the back of your mind, there was always the possibility that the field could fail at any moment.  No one is immortal, even with the shield they installed. Did that deter you from your little retreat activities? Hell no. It only made it that much more exciting.

 

“Sooo…. Are you gonna shoot or what?”

The man’s huffing brought you out of your internal monologue. Oh, right… he was here too, wasn’t he?

 

 _He_ being Rick Sanchez- the smartest man in the universe.

 

As much as you hated to admit it, that old bastard was a sight for sore eyes. It had been eons since you last saw Rick.  When was it, Spring Break ’12 on Slypso-6?  But that wasn't the surprising part of running into him again. Last you heard, the Galactic Federation had locked him away for… well, for _everything_. When asked about it, he was quick to set the record straight. It seemed he got his kicks from gloating in great detail of his elaborate (and successful) scheme to destroy the federation from within. After a few rounds, it was your idea to invite him up to your suite for a little fun. When you got to your room, however, you realized your idea of fun and his were slightly different.

“Later, asshole,” you had said, tossing his shirt back at him. Out of your pocket, you retrieved a single bullet before locating the gun from under your pillow. It wasn’t the most efficient firearm in the universe by far.  It was a simple revolver you picked up from Earth long ago for situations like this. It didn’t need to be impressive to get the job done. Rick’s eyes followed your fingers as you pushed the bullet into the cylinder and swung it back in place

_“Oh, so y-you’re into that shit, huh? Fine, fuck it. Let’s play.”_

 

 

The gun was already against your temple. Locked. Loaded. Ready to go. With a deep breathe, you pulled the trigger.

_Click._

And… Nothing. The sweat now saturating your skin was by no means an indicator of your experience with this game. Nor were your trembling hands. One would think that after shooting themselves as often as you did, they wouldn’t be so damn nervous. Perhaps one never gets used to pulling the trigger on themselves. It didn’t matter; your shot was up. You tossed the weapon across the mattress to Rick.

“You’re up.”

“About fuckin’ time.”

_Spin. Click._

No hesitation from Rick. Of fuckin’ course not. After all, you were dealing with Mr. Self-Destruct himself. It amazed you Rick was even humoring you by playing this silly game. The revolver was back in your hands no sooner than it left.

_Spin._

This time you weren’t going to bother with the temple. Instead, you put it right in your mouth.  The old man raised one side of his eyebrow at you, amused.  He grinned.

“I got something you can bl- “

“Schwut wup, Wick,” you muttered. The gun was still between your lips still, your tongue dancing along the tip with every syllable.  Your taste buds rejected the bitter taste of the barrel. Disgusted, you decided now was the time to get this turn over with.  A flick of the thumb pulled the hammer back. With your index finger, you fired.

_Click._

Another disappointing clack of a blank shot.  A dissatisfied sigh from Rick soon followed.

“D-D-Did you even remember to put the bullet in?” said the old man.

“You fuckin’ watched me do it!”

A swig from his flask and rolling of eyes was his only response before he yanked the gun from you. Swinging open the chamber, he peered inside to check for himself. Sure enough, the bullet was right there were you placed it. If it was anyone else, an “I told you so” would feel so satisfying at the moment. But this wasn’t anyone. It was Rick, and it didn’t matter if you told him so or not.

_Spin._

_Click._

_..._

_Click._

Rick ‘fired’ twice for good measure before shrugging and handing it back to you. Impatient didn’t even begin to describe how you were feeling now. Suspense was supposed to add to the thrill, but this was taking much longer than anticipated. One more fucking blank and you’d get your atomizer out your bag and blow your entire head off.

_Spin._

This time the cylinder really whirred as it spun. When it came to a stop, you dramatically cocked the hammer back. The weapon pointed at your temple yet again, but this time with a smirk.  You had a good feeling about this time. The metal tip felt cool against your skin.  You closed your eyes and exhaled before giving the trigger a good squeeze and-

**Bang.**

 

The pain was excruciating, but short lived.  You felt the bullet as it shattered your skull, but not much else after that.  The only real thing you were aware of was how loud everything was after the gun fired.  As your grip loosened on reality, the harsh ringing in your ears slowly pulsated away to silence. A silence purer than ever imaginable in the realm of the living. Surrounding you was what could only be described as emptiness. Complete emptiness. Not light nor dark, neither concept applied in this state.  It was everything and nothing at all. The pain from your wound had completely dissipated, along with pain that you had suffered so long you were no longer consciously aware of it. Your being was now completely separated from your body. You could hardly call it your being anymore, feeling as though all sense of you was gone. By no means would you consider it unpleasant.  It was difficult, nay, impossible to tack emotions on to the experience of death. Such a feeling was utterly beyond comprehension.  If you, however, had to sum it all up in one word, that word would be ‘peace'. In death, you were at peace with the fact that all the shit you’re wrapped up in doesn’t mean a thing in the grand scheme of it all. Nothing mattered here. No matter how bad you fucked up or even how great you became- none of that would affect this afterlife after it was all said and done. There was a comfort in knowing that.

 

With a sharp inhale, it was over. You had no idea how long it took the forcefield to revitalize you. Your time in death felt both like a moment and like an eternity. For you, it was too soon. It fucking _ached_ to come back to life. You often described the feeling to others as the worst hangover imaginable... amplified by a thousand. It would only take moments to reacquaint yourself with your body.  Nonetheless, that time was excruciating. The wound had healed but being back in your own skin after the weightlessness of death was so inconvenient. Everything now seemed so brash compared to the absolute silence. You were hyper-aware of every action going on inside your body. You could feel the blood rush through your veins, your muscles flexing or relaxing, even your lungs swelling with oxygen.  Your eyes fluttered open.  Though your vision was bleary and still adjusting, you could make out a figure standing above you.

 “Y-you really uh, h-had me for a minute there,” said the man.  He followed it up with a relieved laugh.  Your eyes adjusted enough to see Rick hovering above you with a grateful smile.

“You didn’t fondle my corpse, did you Rick?” you joked.

“Pfft, I didn’t even have the chance,” he replied.  He offered you a hand.  You gladly accepted, helping yourself off the floor.  You glanced around at your surroundings.  Blood and bits of your brain coated the stainless-steel surfaces of the suite and stained the cloth of the mattress.  God, what a mess.  Housekeeping will have some fun in the morning.

“Sooo…”

You shot a glance at the man speaking, who happened to be waggling his eyebrow at you.

“You still wanna?”

You rolled your eyes playfully.  “Sure, Rick.  But I hope you brought condoms.  Something tells me morning after pills don’t work too well here either.”


End file.
